


In Your Wildest Dreams

by Dogsled



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Attempted Seduction, Blindfolds, Car Sex, Case Fic, Claiming Bites, Collars, Dean in Heat, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fantasizing, First Time, Group Sex, Hormones, Infidelity, Jealous Castiel, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners, Mythology References, Omega Dean, Omega for Hire, Oral Sex, Pining, Pity Sex, Promiscuous Dean Winchester, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Dean/Other(s), Rough Sex, SPN A/B/O Bingo, Scent Kink, Sensory Deprivation, Shower Sex, Topping from the Bottom, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogsled/pseuds/Dogsled
Summary: (Eventually) a 25 chapter fic covering all my ABO Bingo Prompts, main pairing is Dean/Castiel, and other ships will be warned for in chapter headers.Sam, Dean and Cas are on the trail of a malevolent goddess, and while that should be a simple task, it's complicated by Castiel's jealousy and Dean's desperate urge to avoid any kind of emotional relationship, let alone bonding with an Alpha who is clearly completely devoted to him.But that's all about to change.





	1. 17 - Destiel - Sensory Deprivation

**Author's Note:**

> Destiel; Alpha!Cas, Topping from the Bottom Omega!Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas remembers his first time with Dean. It's not exactly a happy memory.

Castiel sat on the motel bed staring bleakly at Dean’s open bag, at the spiked collar that sat on top of it, mocking him silently. Sam and Dean would be back soon, but Cas was here, left alone to ruminate on his past, and more specifically--on Dean.

 

The moment they had chosen to break the sexual tension between them, Cas had been...well, he’d been thrilled. It had felt like the natural turning point in their relationship, the moment where Dean would finally settle. Cas had been seeing signs that their they were finally moving to warmer waters. Dean had given him gifts, had invited him to stay in the bunker and watch movies with him. They’d even gone to bars together, and while Dean still hadn’t told Cas how he felt, it seemed blatantly obvious, to the point where surely all it would take was one party telling the other how they felt for the floodgates to open.

 

Cas had hoped it would be Dean. This was all so new to him that he doubted what he was feeling, doubting too the conventions of exploring those new emotions. What if he didn't really know what love was? Dean was human, and so surely privy to some knowledge Cas didn’t have as an angel.

 

Dying, though, Cas hadn’t been able to wait any longer. He’d missed his opportunity, but the love was still there, still insistent, and if he didn’t speak it out loud, now, then it would never _be_ spoken, not now he had only moments left. So he confessed--and then Crowley saved his life.

 

That night, Dean had taken him to his bed. He’d worn his spiked anti-claiming collar, as Cas knew he always did during his escapades, but Cas remembered he’d felt stung at the time. He felt like he knew better, that surely his confession of love leading to sex meant that, somehow, Dean would reciprocate, that he’d want to be mated to Cas, that all this growing closer might be going somewhere.

 

He’d been wrong.

 

Cas closed his eyes to resist the draw of the collar, and only ended up letting the memories flood right in. It was still so intoxicatingly clear that it both aroused and chilled him to remember it at all.

 

“Come on, Cas, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

 

“It’s not another hat, is it?” Cas began, wearily. He’d almost died. Six hours ago he’d been dying, black goo pouring out of his mouth, and already things were seemingly back to normal. It was enough to bring him almost to the edge of despair.

 

“It’s not a hat. Come on. Just sit down there.” Dean pointed to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to have to wear a blindfold, okay?”

 

Halfway to sitting on the bed, Cas found himself frowning at Dean instead. “Pardon?”

 

But Dean already had a blindfold dangling from one hand, and was approaching Cas cheerfully.

 

“It’s no big deal,” Dean said. Then “don't you trust me?” which sealed the deal completely. Cas submitted to the blindfold obediently. It was shaped like a face mask and sat snugly across the bridge of his nose.

 

“I don’t see why I couldn’t have just closed my eyes,” Cas complained, sighing as Dean shuffled around the room. It seemed to take forever, but then Dean's hand was curling around his wrist, and Cas, perplexed, allowed him to do as he pleased with it.

 

To his surprise, Dean guided his hand to rest against the bare slope of his throat, then guided Cas’ fingers up just high enough to feel the thick, worn leather of Dean's protective collar.

 

“I don’t understand,” Cas said, nervously.

 

“You almost died, Cas. I want… Let me do this for you. I know it’s what you want.”

 

Hope flourished in Castiel's chest. “You mean it?”

 

“Would I be standing here naked if I didn’t mean it? Come on, Cas. We’ve fought this for so long, right? But it’s stupid. You and me… We make sense. I don’t even know why we waited so long.”

 

It was everything that Cas had ever hoped to hear Dean say, and so he didn’t dare to question it. He let his hand slide down Dean's shoulder, then his arm, then crossed to the tender softness of his belly and worked his way back up. Dean really was naked, wearing nothing but the dark, vicious looking collar that kept hormonal alphas away from his throat during the rut.

 

Cas swallowed, and reached for his blindfold with both hands, but Dean grabbed his wrists and held tight.

 

“Feel, don’t look.”

 

“Dean…”

 

“Come on, Cas. I'm the omega, remember. There’s not a whole lot about this I get to control. Let me have this.”

 

“I want to see you,” Cas complained, bitterly.

 

“Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

 

Castiel had to trust him. It wasn’t exactly as though he could claim he knew better and take over the process himself. Besides, his hands had sort of fallen still on Dean’s sides now that he’d made contact, as though he were afraid of moving them any further than he already had.

 

Dean caught his wrists, firmly, and squeezed them.

 

“I can see how nervous you are, Cas. You’re allowed to touch--you’re not going to break me.”

 

Cas hesitated anyway, but then Dean was pulling his hands back down, until Castiel’s fingers automatically wrapped around the contours of his body, squeezing at the globes of Dean’s ass. The hiss of surprise he got from Dean more than made it worth it, and Castiel took heart, leaning in until his nose found skin; the inside of Dean’s hip. He dragged his mouth against Dean’s flesh, chasing freckles he couldn’t see, and felt Dean tremble under the touch.

 

“You’ve wanted me,” Dean breathed. “You’ve always wanted me. Every alpha I’ve ever met...you’re no different.”

 

Castiel wanted to dispute that, wanted to remind Dean that he wasn’t every other alpha, but the omega scent was rising; _Dean’s_ scent was rising, making it difficult to think of almost anything else. His hands began to move on their own, reaching further back, the tips of his fingers dipping into Dean’s slick.

 

His nostrils flared. He inhaled.

 

“There you go. You want me.”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“And I want you, Cas.”

 

Castiel nodded drunkenly, and Dean scooped up Cas’ cheeks in both his hands, pulling his face up, dragging Cas’ mouth against his bare skin until, at last, Castiel began to respond. He kissed at Dean’s hip and was rewarded by a soft huff. As Cas pursued Dean’s cooing encouragement with his lips, Dean stroked his fingers back through his hair, and Cas was just as eager for that to continue.

 

Dean didn’t complain when Castiel slipped one finger inside him, taking the invitation of Dean’s slick at face value. Dean’s cock had twitched higher, and there was no ignoring it now--so Castiel didn’t. He pressed his face against it, kissed his shaft, then dragged his mouth all the way along it. In an instant Dean was pulling his hair, directing Castiel demandingly until the angel accepted him into the inviting heat of his mouth.

 

Dean was right there, then, filling his senses. Dean’s heat, Dean’s arousal--Cas drowned in it. The scent was cloying, and Cas embraced it, thrusting a second finger in alongside the first, prying Dean wider. Dean’s hips ground back then forward, caught between Cas’ exploring fingers and his welcoming mouth. He pushed eagerly until the tip was nudging into Castiel’s throat, but the angel didn’t gag. There was no need to fight. He wasn’t human, and there was no reflex or crushing need to breathe. He closed his eyes, if only because there was nothing to see, and Dean rode forward, bearing into him with persistence, hips twitching between the curious thrust of Castiel’s fingers and his waiting mouth.

 

For a few seconds Dean simply took hold of his face, one hand gripping each side of Castiel’s jaw, thrusting smoothly into Cas’ mouth as though _he_ were the Alpha, the sexual dominant. He was more experienced by miles, of course, but Cas didn’t care; he was no devotee to traditional roles, and it would take away from Dean himself if there wasn’t this spark. Dean took what he wanted, and Cas was eager to give it, pushing in a second finger, then a third, and driving deep into Dean with each of his own wet thrusts.

 

Dean faltered at last, and pulled back. Saliva and precome dripped shockingly wet into Castiel’s lap. Panting, he chased Dean’s erection, only to be pushed back with a firm hand on his chest. Though he did so with some difficulty, Dean pried Castiel’s hands away. At last his hand slipped from Dean’s channel, and Dean stepped right out of range. Only the grip of Dean’s hand on Cas’ wrist anchored him to reality.

 

“Follow me.”

 

Castiel followed blindly. His feet felt unusually heavy, but he trailed after Dean anyway, and when at last Dean stopped moving Cas tried to work out where in the room they were. His sense of special orientation was failing him. With Dean’s omega scent coating the insides of his mouth, it was a wonder he could walk straight at all. His own erection, swollen between his thighs, made it even more difficult.

 

Dean’s hand moved up Cas’ arm, sending shivers through his body. Cooing to soothe his nerves, Dean hunted down the buttons of his shirt, undoing them in sequence. Firmly, Dean loosened his tie just enough that it could be slipped out from around his shirt collar, and then Dean pulled it taut again, yanking it tightly against Cas’ neck, until it almost pinched.

 

“Take your cock out,” came Dean’s next order, as commanding as the last.

 

Cas obeyed without thinking. He was trembling, the heat unbearable under his clothes, and freedom for his erection felt like more than just that. It was what he needed more than anything.

 

Dean tugged on the tie. Now, when he spoke, his voice sounded somewhat further away, as though he’d turned around.

 

“Take my hips.”

 

Sure enough, Cas found Dean’s hips turned away from him, and, in fact, Dean seemed somehow to be tipped all the way forward, ass up in the air in offering. When Castiel reached out to feel out the surface Dean was on, he easily identified the cramped green couch they shared when watching TV by the smooth, cool upholstery. Dean was presented over the arm of the seat, and Cas could smell him now, the wicked scent of Dean’s sexual arousal drawing him in. Not heat, but close enough.

 

“You smell so good,” he breathed, hardly believing what was happening right in front of him. His inability to see it somehow made the whole thing that much more dreamlike. Dean was presenting _for him_. Dean was waiting for Cas to fuck him. Dean was pulling on the tie to get his attention, dragging his nose closer to Dean’s back.

 

“Get on with it, Cas. You know you want it, so take it. Take me.”

 

There was something _wrong_ , here, something Cas was missing, but it was impossible to question anything at this point. Dean smelled amazing, and he was offering himself to Cas, hips bumping back against him, dabs of Dean’s slick left behind on his body everywhere they touched. Once he was lined up – again by touch alone - it took the space of a breath to bury himself to the hilt, sliding deep into Dean with a single roll of his hips, then readjusting to make himself more steady. One arm hung on the back of the couch, and the other gripped Dean’s hip—he thrust, and kept on thrusting. There was no stopping him now.

 

Dean groaned, trapped hot and tight beneath Cas and the couch, but Castiel smothered him that much further, clamouring to get closer while he ground away with eager, rhythmic snaps of his hips. He tumbled down the rabbit hole that was Dean’s clenching heat, breathless and almost startled at himself for his need.

 

Castiel became ferocious. He held Dean tighter, gripped his hip with one hand and the back of the couch with the other and buried himself in the act. His own hips snapped a steady, brutal drumbeat, making use of every single inch he had, and Dean was _willing_ , Dean was _perfect,_ making soft, beautiful little noises at the apex of each of Castiel’s thrusts. For a moment this was a replacement for paradise, greater than Heaven, and Castiel no longer cared that he had fallen for this man because that was his choice, and this—this made it all so much more worth it. It was glorious, in the literal sense; a _Glory_. It was all Cas could do not to sing Hallelujah. Finally! It felt like he’d been waiting forever for this, and it was his. _Dean_ was his.

 

He came too soon, but there had never been any question that he would. For Cas, who wanted this to go on forever, his lack of experience was his Achilles Heel. Before he could stop himself his knot was swelling, pulsing, and Dean was pulling down on the end of his tie to anchor him. He stopped quickly enough after that, caught precariously and balanced awkwardly on his heels behind Dean.

 

“Relax,” Dean cooed. “Just let it go. Relax.”

 

But Castiel couldn’t just _relax_. He shifted his feet as though to try and pull away, though it made his knot tug on Dean’s hole, Dean grunting painfully beneath him. Quickly Cas fell still again, hardly daring to move.

 

“I said chill,” Dean said, tugging on his tie again. “Get comfortable. It’s gonna take a few minutes.”

 

Castiel knew that, but he still felt as though dropping his weight on Dean was an imposition. Despite how weak he felt, seemingly exhausted from so little exertion, he was fighting the urge to flop on Dean uselessly. But he couldn’t fight his own body as well as the pull on his tie. As Dean pulled harder he let himself curl forward, his chest resting against Dean’s back. It felt instantly better, and Cas oozed into a happy, restful trance right where he lay

 

Instinctively, he nosed higher, hunting Dean’s Omega scent, hunting the glands; the spot he would bite over to claim Dean in any other circumstance. All he got for his trouble was a face full of spikes as he came into contact with Dean’s collar, the accessory doing precisely the job it was intended to and protecting Dean from amorous Alphas who weren’t entirely aware of themselves. Cas pulled away, found a kinder place to lay his face down, and relaxation dragged him the rest of the way.

 

Cas dozed, and he only stirred again when Dean gave him a little shoulder shake.

 

“Wakey wakey. You’re all done.”

 

Cas sighed miserably. The last thing he wanted to do was move. Still he was slipping free, his cock sliding out, and Dean was giving him another shove to get him up. Cas straightened, reaching out for the edge of the couch again to support his weight as he went, and trembling as his soft cock bumped against his thigh.

 

The next thing Cas knew, stunned as he was, was Dean was calling out to him from the bathroom. Cas was standing there expectantly, alone, right where he’d been left. He was still wearing the goddamn blindfold Dean had put on him. He was weak at the knees, shaky, but Dean was gone, and Cas didn’t know what to do with that.

 

“You can get out now, Cas. Leave the blindfold.”

 

He took it off, hesitatingly, placing it down on the edge of the green couch, and looked forlornly at the bathroom door. Was that it? Just get out? Wham, Bam, Thanks a lot, Cas? Dean hadn’t even come.

 

If this was supposed to make him feel better, coming as it was off the back of his near death experience, Cas wasn’t feeling it. Instead he felt used, and somehow as if he understood sex and - more importantly – Dean, far less than he ever had.

 

“Dean?”

 

He called out and got no answer. Instead the sound of the shower starting greeted him. Dean was washing himself, which left Cas still standing there feeling helpless and distracted. With nothing left to do he put himself away, and then reluctantly buttoned his shirt back up, undoing and redoing his tie. If he did it particularly slowly, it was only because he half hoped he could hang around just long enough for Dean to emerge from the bathroom.

 

But Dean didn’t come out. The sound of his shower continued, and – dragging his feet – Cas made his way out of the room, confusion still writ in every inch of his body.

 

There was no explanation, and after that things simply returned to normal; the normal amount of flirting, the normal long, smouldering looks, the normal dismissiveness. It was as though the incident had never happened, as though they’d never slept together at all. Somehow that made it worse, not easier. Cas could barely stand himself. He asked himself questions incessantly. Had he done something wrong? Why didn’t Dean want him? Why wouldn’t he even acknowledge that it had happened? Had it been that bad? Was it because Dean hadn’t come? He knew that it was important that pleasure was reciprocated…

 

Somehow, Cas begun to blame himself, instead.

 

It was his fault. If he’d pleased Dean, if he’d been good enough, a good Alpha, he’d have…he’d have refused the blindfold, dominated Dean, _told_ him what to do in no uncertain terms. That was what Alphas were supposed to do, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t in Castiel’s nature to be like that, at least not unless he knew – _knew_ – it was what Dean wanted. But Cas had failed. Cas hadn’t gotten Dean off, and that was his mistake. He was a pathetic Alpha. He was _useless_.

 

Cas sighed, staring across at the collar miserably. It didn’t seem fair. Leaving that thing here, leaving it _out_ , a reminder of Dean’s impending heat… Cas would surely have nothing to do with it. It wasn’t like Dean wanted him, wasn’t like Castiel could ever satisfy him. So leaving the collar where it was, a memento of that night and of what he couldn’t have was more than Castiel could stand.

 

It just didn’t seem fair. What had he done so wrong to deserve being treated like this? What had he done to Dean? He’d only loved him, been there for him. He’d given away everything for Dean – given up _Heaven_. He’d been Dean’s tool, tortured for him, fought for him, killed his own kind for him.

 

Why didn’t Dean want him? Why wouldn’t he? What did he have to _do_ to earn Dean’s love in return?


	2. 20 - Destiel - Phantom Scent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas just can't leave Dean's anti-claiming collar alone. He lets his desire for Dean get the better of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note that non-Destiel pairings in this fic will be skippable without missing out on the story, so stick to chapter headings you're comfortable with and you'll be fine. Any heavy warnings (dub-con, non-con etc.) will be added to chapters they're in, right at the top where you can't miss them!

It was absolutely impossible to think with the collar in the room.

 

Cas considered just going somewhere else, not that the situation was really ideal. Perhaps if he’d still had his wings, he could have slipped easily between dimensions where the scent was less powerful, where the residual tease of sex didn't cling to Dean’s possessions when he was absent. Castiel might have been able to pull his thoughts away from carnal temptation, then, but as it was all he could think about was the spiked collar sitting on the very top of Dean's open travel bag, thick with heat sweat and hormone rich oils excreted from Dean's scent glands.

 

Even just thinking about the collar was making Cas salivate. Looking at it across the room was worse. Every time he told himself that he was stronger than his desires, an angel of the Lord, he entertained the thought that he could just pick the collar up and sniff it, and by doing so sacrifice the urge that worried at his distracted mind like a loose feather or a sore tooth. He could zip it away, then, unbothered, rising victoriously above his animal urges.

 

But Castiel knew he wasn't that strong. He knew that one sniff of the collar and he’d end up curled up on the bed with a fistful of his own cock, and surely that would be the moment when Sam and Dean returned from their reconnaissance mission at the local diner. They’d discover him, prone and weak and pathetic, and Dean would scoff at him and turn away, unimpressed.

 

The collar mocked him. The collar reminded him of the last time. He hadn’t just summoned the idea of Dean's disappointment in him entirely out of nowhere, it still stung, hot coal painful at the back of his mind.

 

Dean’s scent drifted. It clung to every impossible whisper of air that wafted across the room, somehow a constant bombardment even though Castiel knew instinctively that the collar was only one scent in a whole host of conflicting hormonal smells that had been painted impressionistically across the entire motel room. Only Dean’s Omega scent stood out to Castiel, perhaps because he only wanted Dean, or perhaps because they’d copulated once already.

 

He couldn’t stand it, but he couldn’t resist either, and despite his knowledge of his best interests, Cas stood and shuffled across the room, drawing closer and closer to the offensive object, drawing closer and closer to the pungent source of his temptation.

 

Before he knew it his hands had wrapped around the leather, fingers slotting between the spikes, and Cas was bringing it up to his face, inhaling deeply from the inside surface where most of Dean’s heat scent had accumulated. Desire almost brought him to his knees at the first inhale, but instead Castiel managed to push his weight forward instead, flopping onto his back on the bed beside Dean’s bag with his nose still buried in the collar.

 

His memories of that night clawed to the surface, but this time Castiel was determined to change them, to not be so mewling and submissive. He was an _Alpha_. This time, Cas imagined, instead of the door hitting him on the way out, he’d pursue Dean into the bathroom, trapping him under the spray of the shower, naked and surprised. He’d rake his eyes down Dean’s body to take in every inch that had been denied to him.

 

Castiel teased open his own fly, roughly tugging the tails of his shirt up out of the way. There was no time to linger; Sam and Dean could be back at any moment, and he was determined to avoid the horrific possibility of Dean discovering him like this. Still, it took some determined squirming and wriggling to get his pants off one handed now he was lying on his back.

 

The moment he was free, he wrapped his hand around himself, his delicate skin already engorged from fantasy and heat scent. He was aching, on fire with his arousal, precome leaking from the tip at the very first hint of a touch to his long neglected erection.

 

Cas inhaled deep from the collar. There was no holding back now. The moment he surrendered, it overcame him all at once, and behind his eyes things played out precisely as he wanted. There was no threat that Dean would reject him in a fantasy, no fear that he wouldn’t be good enough. Dean didn’t order him to get out when Castiel stepped naked under the spray of the shower, demonstrating his willingness with his body language, his hooded gaze. Instead he _let_ Cas corner him, _let_ Cas grab him by the hips and grind hard against him, and whimpered as Castiel trapped his cock between them, wrapping a fist around the head of Dean’s dick and giving a rough squeeze.

 

Cas hissed and rocked his own hip up into his fist. Yes, that felt pretty good. Dean would like it too.

 

“I told you to get out,” Dean would say.

 

This time Cas would have a clever reply. “We weren’t done.”

 

Just to make his point, he’d give Dean another firm stroke, and a gentle rhythm would come next, his body against Dean’s, looming over the other man while Dean submitted, dropping his shoulders to let Cas claim all the physical space. Dean would _want_ him, and Cas was determined to give Dean everything he could ever desire. This body, his mouth, his hand—whatever Dean needed from him, Cas would supply. And right now what Dean _needed_ was to come.

 

It was what Castiel needed, too.

 

Dean would expose his throat to him, then, and Castiel would lean in and breathe in the scent of him, just as he was doing now, muted by the water of the shower. To get a better sense of Dean he’d drag his tongue along every inch of skin, licking through the rivulets of water, teasing fresh scent to the surface until, despite the steady beat of water, Dean was stinking with arousal. By now his cock would be leaking over Cas’ fist, like Castiel’s was in his own, and Cas would suck in one last deep breath before letting him go, taking hold of Dean’s thighs instead and hefting him up off the tiles in a single move. Then Dean would wrap his legs around him, holding on for dear life, and Cas would crowd back into his space, his cock nudging with familiarity against Dean’s waiting hole.

 

At that Dean would gasp, clawing at Castiel’s shoulders, begging him for more. Because it was a fantasy, Dean would say something like “I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I should have never doubted you.”

 

Then Cas would drive home, and Dean would sob wretchedly as he was penetrated, twisting against the cold tile wall.

 

“Cas! Fuck me, Cas!”

 

Something like that, anyway.

 

Growling against his ear, Cas would give him precisely what he wanted, but not before making a point. “I don’t need to touch you to make you come,” he’d snarl. “My knot is more than enough to get you off.”

 

A blatant untruth, obviously, but for now, inside his imagination, Castiel could make it happen. He sucked in another deep breath from the inside of Dean’s collar, and imagined that moment of victory, sinking his teeth deep into Dean’s tender throat, biting hard while his hips pounded into Dean’s slick, tight heat. His own fist was a poor substitute, but it hardly mattered now, because in his mind Dean was thirsty for his cock, for any friction that he could get, and Cas drove on steadily, fucking him harder until the Dean in his imagination was keening and weak from arousal, his legs trembling around Castiel’s sides as he came closer and closer to coming.

 

“That’s it,” Cas breathed into the motel room’s cloying air, his mouth wrapped around the leather edge of Dean’s collar, tongue lathing hot against the phantom scent that clung to it. “That’s it, Dean. Take it. Take my knot.”

 

The imaginary Dean did just that, but in reality orgasm broke the spell just a little, so that Cas had to struggle to regain his place in his fantasy. His knot popped on thin air, and it was more disappointing than any sexual experience Cas had ever had. Without Dean’s tight body reciprocating there was just nothing there, no sense of closeness, no squeezing channel driving on his orgasm, milking streams of come from him. He spilled once over his fist, and despite his best efforts there was nothing more, and with it the euphoria dwindled and disappointment tried to take its place.

 

Castiel sucked on the edge of Dean’s collar, coating his mouth in the taste of salt sweat, the hormonal residue of many years of desire. His teeth were wrapped around the leather band, holding tight, uncaring that he might leave marks behind. He clung to the fantasy with just as much devastating need, desperate not to let it go.

 

In the fantasy, Dean wrapped his arms around him, floppy and helpless, begging physically for the reassurance and protection of his Alpha. Castiel took his weight, and together they slid down the wall, knotted tightly together, joined at last. Cas still held onto Dean’s throat, teeth pressed into his skin in the claiming bite he’d always longed to make.

 

He’d saved Dean from Hell. He’d raised Dean from perdition and placed a seal of ownership on his soul. Everything in his body wanted – _craved_ – making a claiming bite as well, jealous and fierce as he challenged any other Alpha who would ever dare to touch Dean Winchester.

 

Dean didn’t want him, though, or perhaps at least didn’t want that from him. They’d become too close, become too comfortable, and Dean saw him as a brother instead. A brother couldn’t be a potential lover. That was why they’d hit this impasse. What did humans call that? The friend zone. And that was assuming you occasionally fucked someone in the friend zone to make them feel better.

 

The idea of Dean being claimed by anyone else, another Alpha placing a mark on him, particularly when Castiel’s had been swept away some years ago – though soul marks were indelible, they never faded like flesh might – rankled something terrible. One day it might even happen, Castiel knew that—and then what? What would he do when it was all too late? When there was no taking it back? Either Dean wouldn’t be his forever or worse, the hunting life might take him instead. Either fate was an agony.

 

With that sobering thought, Castiel opened his eyes at last. His imagination had at last drifted away, and with it the fantasy Dean had evaporated too. Cas lay on his back, his own mess splashed on his hips and shirt and all over his fist, the collar still held tight in his mouth. The magic was gone, and Cas spat the used leather out, sighing out an exhale as his sad knot softened without even another twitch.

 

Cas pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking sadly at the chewed up collar and rubbing his thumb over the leather where his teeth had dented the edge. At once it renewed its shape, and after a second of contemplation, Cas offered his ruined clothes the same brisk brush up. Good as new, he shifted over onto the edge of the bed and set about pulling his pants back up, tucking his shirt back in.

 

No sooner had he straightened his tie but the motel room door opened. Sam and Dean were back, talking animatedly between themselves about the case. It took them both a moment to acknowledge Castiel at all, but at last Dean did, taking in a sharp intake of breath through his nose then looking judgmentally at Cas. Sam, oblivious, grinned at him. “Hey Cas.”

 

“Hello Sam. Dean.”

 

Dean narrowed his eyes, flicking his eyes pointedly down Cas’ body, meeting his gaze once more, then raising both eyebrows. That one eye gesture was practically an entire conversation. Dean could smell his arousal, the stink of sex and shame in the room. Sam, if he’d noticed, was paying no attention at all.

 

“You just been sitting there waiting for us ever since we left?” Dean teased.

 

If Castiel were human he would have blushed, but instead he held Dean’s gaze defiantly. “Perhaps if you invited me to join you on your reconnaissance, I wouldn’t have needed to wait at all.”

 

Subtle.

 

All Dean offered him in answer was a twitch of his lips. The game was on, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel like he’d already lost.


	3. 16 - Destiel - Case Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will discuss the case. Dean is his usual level of helpful while Sam gets his research on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiel, with some more awful one sided pining. Enjoy!

Expectantly, Castiel waited for the two hunters to settle. Sam was plugging in his laptop and setting himself up on the bed while Dean cajoled him, cracking open a beer.

 

“You know that’s really bad for your junk, man. Hot laptop. You’re gonna deep fry your nuts.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s an old wives tale, Dean. It’s crap.”

 

“Nah, I know a guy it happened to. Damn thing set on fire, right there on his little dude. Scarred for life.”

 

Sam ignored his brother’s warnings, fluffing up his pillows and dropping back on the bed as the laptop started up. Dean came to sit beside Cas; no surprise there, since Cas was sitting on Dean’s bed still, but things were immediately awkward, Dean placing a hand on his thigh, his fingers just a little too far over to be considered platonic.

 

“You missed me, huh, bud?”

 

Castiel felt his whole body stiffen at the word ‘bud’. If he could erase one word from the English language, “Buddy” would be it. Dean didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he did, and it was a deliberate choice. Either way all Castiel wanted to do was get away, but it would draw far more attention to his discomfort stepping away while Dean was touching him than it would if he waited until Dean stopped.

 

He chose to wait it out. Dean’s hands never usually lingered for that long. His scent, though, that slight hint of something peppery residing just beneath Dean’s skin, was something else entirely to endure. Dean probably didn’t even know he was coming into heat yet, but _Castiel_ did. He tried very hard not to breathe at all with Dean beside him—God knew he didn’t have to, it was only because the vessel was used to breathing at all that it happened, an automatic filling of lungs that could be turned off if need be.

 

Like now.

 

“It’s alright,” Dean teased. “You can admit it. We were gone a pretty long time.”

 

Cas wasn’t going to rise to the bait. He kept his eyes on Sam, waiting for him to look back up and acknowledge them. The moment he did, Dean’s hand lifted up from Castiel’s leg, and he swung himself up onto his bed instead, swigging beer and collapsing against the headboard, taking his phone out to shut out the room. If anything, for a hint of a second Sam looked apologetic, as though he understood Castiel’s plight.

 

“So those two hunters that went missing here aren’t missing at all, first of all. We talked to them. They’re in the room six doors down from us, would you believe it? Had to drive halfway around town to find that out, but that’s where they’re staying. It’s crazy.”

 

Castiel nodded as though he understood, and Sam continued. “They said they’re having a vacation.”

 

“That’s not what they said,” Dean chirped, from behind his phone. “They said they’re having a _stay_ cation. Like forever. Actually they said the pussy round here is so sweet they’re never planning to leave.”

 

Sam blushed and bristled, and shot a glare at his brother. “Alpha crap, that’s all it was. We drove through four states to find these guys and it’s a sex thing.”

 

“You still seem to think there’s a case here,” Dean pointed out. “The garbage?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Yeah, _precisely_. And there is. I just have to find out what it is.”

 

“What’s wrong with the garbage?” Castiel asked, frowning.

 

Dean scoffed and went back to texting while Sam continued to explain.

 

“It’s not been collected, maybe for a couple of weeks. It’s like the trash men aren’t working. And you’d think it’d be reported in the paper if there was a strike, right? But look at this—“ He swivelled his laptop round so Castiel could see it, tapping the screen in the corner. “—The local newspaper hasn’t been updated since the sixteenth.”

 

“Twelve days,” Castiel agreed. “That is strange.”

 

“And it turned out nothing was open in town, either,” Dean muttered from behind him. “Wanted to buy some shells but the place was all shut up. Gonna have to make a run back to the I-90 for them.”

 

Cas sat in cautious consideration. “Nobody in town is working, and your missing hunters weren’t working either? I think you’re right, Sam. There is a case here. We should take care to establish what it is before being drawn into it ourselves.”

 

“Well whatever it is is only affecting Alphas, right?” Dean asked, distractedly, tapping away.

 

“We don’t know that,” Sam protested, raising an eyebrow and glancing over at his brother.

 

“Not gonna get anywhere without a little reconnaissance, though,” Dean said, swinging his legs back off the bed, and lowering his phone into his lap. “I got a date. Best kind of reconnaissance there is.”

 

“There’s a case here, Dean. We don’t know what’s out there, what it’s done to this town, and you want to go out there alone?”

 

“Sammy, I've been doing this job alone a lot longer than you have. I’m _fine_ on my own. And it’s just a date.”

 

“With a stranger who probably just wants you for your body.”

 

“And what’s the problem with that? A guy can’t have a little fun? It’s just sex, kiddo.”

 

Sam was scowling, but Cas hadn’t moved, had barely even lifted his head to acknowledge Dean was talking at all. A date. Anonymous sex. Dean was _leaving_ to seek out sex with a stranger, and rubbing Cas’ nose in it to boot. It seemed almost vindictive to Castiel, and while he _knew_ he didn’t expect anything from Dean, and suspected that what Dean chose to do with his own sex life never took Cas into account at all, it still stung as though the blow was deliberate.

 

“Sam’s right,” Cas said, channelling steel into his words. “We shouldn’t split up. We don’t know what’s happening, here. There’s no reason to believe that whatever it is doesn’t affect Omega just as much.”

 

“ _I’m going out,_ ” Dean said, much more firmly now, grabbing his collar off the top of his night bag. “I’m a grown man, and I can make my own decisions, and I don’t need either of you telling me how to work this case. Got it? Besides, Shelley is a local girl, she probably knows something about it.”

 

When Cas looked up, Dean was looking straight down at him, and their gazes connected for what felt like forever. There was challenge there, but whatever it was went unanswered, and Dean turned away a moment later, jangling his keys as he made his way toward the door.

 

“See you boys later,” he called over his shoulder. “Have fun getting your geek on without me.”

 

Sam’s loud sigh followed him out, and together Castiel and Sam waited for the roar of the Impala’s engine from the parking lot, listening to it as it growled away.

 

Finally, Sam spoke up.

 

“I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but seriously, Cas, the way he treats you…”

 

It was startling to hear Sam acknowledge it at all, so much so that Cas was surprised into looking up at him, his eyes wide. “What?”

 

“He walks all over you,” Sam concluded.

 

Castiel shook his head in denial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam.”

 

“You’re his best friend, Cas. He calls you ‘brother’, you know, but it’s more than that. When you were gone there wasn’t anything I could do to get through to him. _Nothing._ And I thought for a minute or two there things might change, cause it was like…it was like you were on honeymoon, you know? But it went right back to this. It’s like you got so close he can’t even see you any more.”

 

Sam cut right to the quick. It was so painfully true that Castiel couldn’t stand to ruminate on the words. Sam was the closest to both of them; if he was sensing all this friction between them, then Cas had to believe that he understood. It seemed he understood, from what he was saying. But if Dean had a hard time while Castiel was gone then he hadn’t told Cas about it, and Sam was right—it was as though nothing had changed, and it _hurt_. It wounded him terribly.

 

He’d died, and he’d come back, and his affection was if anything even more unrequited.

 

“Sam,” Cas sighed, lifting his chin an inch. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed pointless, and at last he gave his head a bitter shake. “Please. I’d just rather not talk about it.”

 

But it wasn’t as though they ever  _did_ talk about it. It wasn’t as though he’d talked about it with _anyone_ , or even had the issues acknowledged. Even from Dean himself, it was as though the touches didn’t exist, as though Dean overlooking him was normal. Sam, though—Sam thought it was a thing. Sam was aware that Dean was hurting him, and maybe intentionally.

 

Which meant that what Cas was sensing was real, not something he was imagining. That knowledge in of itself was a step up from where he’d been before, feeling oblivious and lost in human customs.

 

Sam was still looking at him like he wanted to say something. Respectfully, though, he sat in silence while Cas made his way over to sit beside him, gesturing to the laptop.

 

“Have you found out anything else about the situation in this town?”

 

Sam cleared his throat.

 

“Towns where people just all went on holiday at once? Pretty difficult to Google. We really need another search term, something to narrow it down.”

 

“Sex,” Cas said. “The hunters we came here to find. You said they planned to stay here because of the…”

 

“Yeah, _that_ ,” Sam agreed. It wasn’t necessary to repeat it.

 

“Then perhaps the townsfolk are too busy, um, copulating… Historically it wouldn’t be the first time. I have first hand experience.”

 

Sam frowned. “You do?”

 

“Sodom and Gomorrah. I don’t remember it with absolute clarity, which I believe now has something to do with Naomi, but…”

 

“The town got super horny.”

 

“Yes. That is… In layman’s terms, yes. They were preoccupied by all kinds of sin, though the recent translations do tend to lean quite hard on copulation and extramarital sex.”

 

Sam nodded his understanding. “What really happened?”

 

“It was a war. We were there in battle against the goddess Inanna, who had enslaved the cityfolk to her will. She mounted a fierce effort, and Heaven threw all their power down on the cities in an attempt to destroy her.”

 

“Inanna?”

 

“She has many names. Ishtar, Astarte, Aphrodite, Venus; they are all iterations of the same original goddess, translated over thousands and thousands of years."

 

“Wow, Cas.”

 

“Heaven was not so powerful then as they are…as they _were_ much recently. We had the numbers, but not the souls, and Inanna had spent many centuries developing her seat of power in Canaan and beyond. We failed, despite the enormous destruction, the many lives lost, and she escaped.”

 

“All those people?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Sam shifted around to look at him. “Like back…just after we met you? With Samhain?”

 

“Uriel was involved in the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah as well.”

 

Sam nodded, slowly. “And now Heaven’s basically gone.”

 

“Giving free reign to these other gods to reassert their grip on power,” Castiel finished, bleakly. “Inanna was a goddess of lust and free sexuality. She is powerful and…precocious. In fact I dare say her quiet influence has been felt on the world for quite some time now, but we never saw fit to hunt her down again. This town… If she is the one behind it, then it will be the first, not the last, to fall under her spell.”

 

“Should we be more worried about Dean?” Sam asked, warily.

 

Cas pulled his shoulders up toward his ears at the mention of Dean. “You mean should we interfere with his date? Sam…you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve grown quite accustomed to Dean’s…to Dean. I don’t expect anything from him, nor have I ever done so.”

 

Sam stared blankly at him.

 

“He’s gone on a date in the modern day equivalent of Sodom. Cas…” Sam ground his teeth together so loudly that Cas couldn’t miss it. “Look," he said, gravely, "we saw a rut circle on the way home. They were taking turns with the Omega, passing him around. Dean thought it was funny, the guy had just presented right in the middle of the street. But now I think about it maybe he was under this goddess' spell somehow…”

 

Fear sank its icy cold fingers into Cas’ chest, clutching at his heart. Dean was in danger. _Of course_ Dean was in danger. It seemed no matter where his dick went it led him down a dangerous path. He should know better by now.

 

“And you didn’t tell me this before because?”

 

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

 

“You don’t think it’s relevant that Dean might be—that he might be at this very moment…” Cas couldn’t finish his sentence. Instead he rose, scowling, and stormed for the door, already thinking two steps ahead. “We’ll have to acquire a vehicle.”

 

Sam was right behind him, his lips pressed into a line of grim concern. “The Maloney brothers aren’t using theirs. C’mon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex in this chapter or the next one, since we're establishing the plot, but then we'll be right back into it with some non-Destiel smut. We'll be switching to Dean's POV for the next chapter too.


	4. 23 - Dean POV - Omega for Hire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean heads out on his 'date' and meets up with an Alpha called Shay, who attempts to seduce him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the updated tags and warnings! Mention of Dean/Others in this, and attempted seduction by Shay. Group public sex (not with Dean) will be happening, too, as we begin to explore Inanna's grip on the town.

Being an Omega had never been easy. Dean hadn’t been born into it, of course; firstborns very rarely presented Omega, and when Dean had finally reached sexual maturity, John had even taken him to a doctor, risking their anonymity to express his concern as a parent. The doctor had told him that it just happened sometimes, particularly when kids experienced early trauma.

 

John, of course, had never given Dean any quarter. Oh, he was sometimes treated as less because of the way he’d presented, but the regimen was brutal, and if anything Dean was more determined to prove himself, more determined to make a point that he could do anything. He wanted John to see that he was a good son and a good hunter, and presenting as Omega was no slight on his capabilities.

 

John never said he was proud. Azazel had, but that was his mistake. No. John always expected more from Dean, and he wanted something that Dean couldn’t provide; an Alpha as an eldest son. A _normal_ child.

 

Sam, on the other hand, presented Alpha just as he was supposed to, but Dean none the less mimicked the role of an Alpha in almost everything. Occasionally he would submit in sex, but even then the temptation was to assert himself, to dictate how the engagement would go. Just because he was an Omega didn’t mean he was submissive, nor did it mean that he didn’t have any choice in the matter. He could choose. He could say no.

 

He had control over his hormones, control over his desire, control over his destiny, and at the end of the day no presentation dictated how he felt about someone. When it came to Castiel, for example, Dean was in no mood to just let it happen no matter how close they got to each other. Cas was Cas, and sexual attraction just seemed to get in the way of that, but he couldn’t help being drawn to him either, and to his shame he knew full well that, particularly when he was coming into heat, he just couldn’t keep his hands or his eyes off the angel.

 

If anything, that only made him more determined to resist, just as he had with Cassie. He would go his own way just the same as he always had, and his hormones could suck it.

 

Dean put the Impala into park and turned off the engine, sizing the place up. Considering how empty the main street had been, this place seemed to be open for business and doing even better because of it. It surprised him that anyone in this place could be looking for an Omega for the night, but the app didn’t lie. He’d already been paid just to show up, and after that if he didn’t like what he saw he could just leave. Typically speaking, it was worth it to stick around and see it out, after all he had an itch to scratch, and if what Dean wanted was a dick inside him, it didn’t really matter who it belonged to.

 

Shelley seemed way too pretty for him, but batting averages were in Dean’s favour, and hey, she was the one who’d put the deposit down, right? She wanted him, which was a damn good start all things considered. Better than turning up for a ‘date’ and finding out there was a price.

Dean checked himself out in the satellite mirror on the front of the Impala, nodded sagely at his reflection, then locked up and head for the bar, keys slipped into his pocket.

It was bustling. People spilled out into the street. One couple were grinding with their clothes on against the wall, and Dean laughed at them as he strode past: “Get a room!” Then he stepped past the threshold, and the smell of spilt beer and sex hit him like a brick wall.

He couldn’t _see_ anyone fucking at first glance, no, but it was like stepping into a teenage boy’s bedroom, or waking up in the middle of an orgy. The scent was _eyewatering_. Particularly, Dean realized belatedly, when he was just coming into heat himself.

Without a second thought, Dean buttoned his anti-claiming collar tightly around his throat. Better safe than sorry. Now his hunter instincts really were firing. What sort of mess had he walked into? This town was sex mad, and that Omega earlier, the one they’d held down on the hood of his own car? It could be him next, and his treacherous body prickled with interest at the thought. Definitely coming into heat. Awesome.

Dean turned to head back for the door. Time to fall back. He’d call Shelley and apologize, maybe agree to meet her somewhere outside of town instead. Maybe not. He just needed to get out of here first and then he’d decide.

An arm wrapped around him just as he made it to the door, and he spun around, ready to fight his way to freedom. He found Shelley smiling disarmingly at him instead.

“Hey sugar, you’re not running out on me, are you?”

Chivalry was not dead, and Dean deflated like a balloon.

“Only realized I forgot something in the car,” he said. “I’ll grab it later, though. Hey. I’m Dean.”

“Shelley, but my friends call me Shay.”

“Shay,” Dean repeated, with a smile. “That’s really pretty. I uh…shall we sit down or something?”

Shay nodded and took his hand, and Dean followed her as she wove back through the crowd, feeling every body between him and the door as a barrier to his own freedom.

Still, there was no denying Shay was _gorgeous_. She was just Dean’s type, her dark hair almost black, her eyes deep and blue as the ocean. On top of all that, from behind, her ass looked like a perfect heart, swaying with each lovely step.

She parked that perfect ass on a bench and invited Dean to sit right beside her. It seemed to Dean like it was the only seat left in the whole place, and as it was there were another five people sitting in the booth with them, albeit none as close as Shay sat to him. Shay ignored them and spoke right to Dean, inches away from his ear.

“I’ve met a lot of Omega from that app, you know. But there’s something different about you, Dean. You’ve got a swagger.”

Dean knew when he was being seduced. _You’re different, you’re special, you’re not like the others._ He kept his eyerolling to himself, though, after all he _was_ different. Not many Omega had been raised the way that Dean had. It gave him a steel that few possessed. He offered Shay a smile.

“What are you doing using an app like that anyway? You telling me you really have a hard time getting laid? Cause that’s crap.”

Shay smiled. “No, not at all. I use the service because I like the perks. Paying for sex has a certain advantage.”

Dean said nothing, but he did frown at her. “What do you mean?”

“When you hire an omega, there’s no risk they’re going to keep calling you and calling you, or following you around, or camping outside your house…”

Dean waved a hand. “I get it. Got it. People are horn dogs.”

“People are _needy_ ,” Shay told him. “I love sex, but I don’t do needy.”

Dean grinned and nodded. He too understood the value of the one night stand; the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Oh, he’d been the needy guy too, and he’d been followed round by his fair share of unshakable Alphas who thought they could have another ride, but no strings attached suited his lifestyle _far_ better. And on top of that, of course, the app paid well, which made it a hell of a lot easier to keep Sammy in the style to which he was accustomed. Salads were expensive, and even seedy motel rooms had doubled in price in the last ten years.

“So tell me something about yourself, Dean. What do you do?”

“Me? Oh I…I travel. I sort out other people’s problems, you know?”

“Like a counsellor?”

Dean laughed. “Like a handyman,” he answered. “I go where the work is.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Well, I’ve got my brother. He’s gassy, but, he’s family.”

“Older, I’m guessing?” Shay asked, innocently.

Dean felt the old scar tissue itch. His whole life that question had been an open wound. Recently, he’d begun to get over it, to accept himself more openly for whom he was, and the world itself was becoming more understanding too. He shouldn’t take it so personally.

“Younger.”

“Oh!” Shay exclaimed, nodding. “That’s unusual. Very unusual. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you?”

“None taken,” Dean answered, softly. “It’s not…I’m used to it.”

Shay placed a hand on Dean’s thigh, and bent in closer, smiling against his ear. She breathed in his scent, her lips so close to Dean’s throat that suddenly a rush of desire drenched him. “I think it’s sexy.”

Now this was what he was talking about. Dean shivered, and turned his face toward her, his eyes bright. “Is that right?”

“Sure,” she answered. “Big brother Omega grows up knowing what he wants, doing what he likes. I bet you overcame a whole lot of adversity, huh? Had to work twice as hard to prove yourself…”

Her hand was sliding up his thigh, and Dean shuddered. He was getting wet, which was absolutely _not_ the plan. Strictly speaking he was a sex in private sort of guy, and there was something humiliating about getting soaked with slick in public. But somehow he was leaning into her, spreading his legs wider so that she could reach her little hand in and—

The Omega on the other side of the table went down hard, snapping Dean out of his reverie. She was bent so far across the small table her face was almost in Dean’s lap, but Dean wasn’t looking at her face, he was watching the Alpha behind her shove up her skirt. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, which made it that much easier for the Alpha to pierce her with a single thrust.

Shay’s hand was still teasing between his legs, but the display in front of him had shot ice into his veins. She was the same as the Omega in the street, and Dean? Dean was next.

He just about fell off the end of the bench in his hurry to get back up.

“I have to go,” he spluttered.

Shay followed him, her blue eyes wide and hurt. “Oh no. Dean, stay. We’re only just getting to know each other. And you’re turned on already…it would be a shame to waste it.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here,” Dean parried, taking a hurried step back. “But this town is screwed up. Like. Under a spell sort of screwed up. You’re probably just caught up in it like everyone else, so I’m gonna…I’m gonna do you a favour and go, cause this is…cause you can’t consent like this. None of you can.”

Now he was right in the middle of it, the sex was impossible to miss. The Omega being pounded against the table wasn’t the only one. The crowd parted to reveal another Omega in the middle of the dancefloor, six or seven Alphas with their cocks in or on her, and others masturbating as they watched. A male Omega was panting and writhing on the billiards table, his wrists and ankles shackled to the corner pockets with what looked like lycra stockings. One Alpha knelt between his open thighs, thrusting a brutal rhythm, and a second had a fistful of his hair while he and a female friend penetrated his mouth together.

For one terrible second, Dean felt like the goat on the chain in Jurassic Park. Only instead of one Tyrannosaurus the whole damn forest was teeming with them. Everyone was watching, drinking, or participating, and Dean alone was running for the door. What the hell had he stumbled into here?

The short rush to the door was like making a dash to the nine yard line. Dean kept meeting resistance, quarterback sized Alphas stepping into his way only for Dean to shove his way past them. His fresh slick and unattached status made him appealing prey, but _no way_ was he getting tied down and used. _No way_. He made one last desperate stumble for the door, and sucked in a breath of cool air the moment he was free, but no damn way was he going to stop there. The car was so close. So close. 

His hands trembled as he grabbed for his keys. To his humiliation he dropped them as he reached the Impala, like he was the useless, shaking victim in a freaking horror movie. So much for the big, brave hunter Dean Winchester! Frantically looking in every direction before reaching down to grab his keys off the floor, he didn’t feel that brave or clever; he didn’t feel much like a _hunter_ at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is violent Ketch/Dean from Dean's POV, so skip that one if it's not your kind of thing.


	5. 3 - Ketch/Dean - Ketch/Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After escaping his date, Dean runs into trouble under the fists of his enemy turned friend Arthur Ketch. One thing leads to another...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alpha!Ketch/Omega!Dean, and dubious consent thanks to Dean's heat. This whole fic is very heavy on the dub!con in that way, so please bear that in mind. Reminder that you can skip non Dean/Cas chapters and still follow the story!

His head hit the front wing of the Impala straight on. Dazed, Dean flailed around for balance, struggling to get his feet under him and move to defend himself, but all that happened the moment he turned was a fist colliding with his face, sending him staggering onto his ass in the Impala’s wheel arch.

His attacker looked oddly familiar. Dean blinked up at him, stunned.

“Ketch?”

“Hello Dean.”

Ketch hit him again and Dean reeled, this time spitting blood out on the floor. “When did we go back to hitting each other?”

“You can’t possibly tell me you don’t like it.”

Dean would be more than happy to disagree. Of course he didn’t like it! Nobody liked being hit in the face, or anywhere else for that matter. The older he got, the longer it took for his scrapes and bruises to heal, and he no longer looked like a hot shot with a black eye, but some sort of old drunk who hadn’t learned better.

He groaned, lifting his arms up to guard from any more shots. None came. When he cracked an eye open, Ketch was pulling at the fly of his jeans, tugging his zipper down. Dean groaned. Of course. Of course this was some sort of fucked up mating ritual. Maybe it was a British thing?

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ketch faltered, his hand hesitating. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“Really? Cause it looked to me like you were getting your cock out.” Dean growled. He shouted as Ketch boldly resumed: “Hey, HEY, this is a case! You’re on my side, right? So do you plan to help me work it or not?”

When Ketch kept on undressing, Dean just sneered at him. “Seriously?”

“I’d really much rather fuck you,” Ketch told him at last, shucking his jeans down to reveal himself. “Right now.”

Dean could hear the panic rising in his own voice. “That’s the spell. Look just… If we get out of here maybe it’ll wear off, okay? You still want to fuck me when we’re out of range…”

Like hell was that going to happen, but they’d cross that bridge when they reached it. Right now he just needed five minutes. He needed some damn breathing space. Most of all he wanted to get far away from the hungry looking Alphas crowding in on them both, sensing easy prey.

“Ketch. I know you. You got free. You can’t tell me you’re going to let some nasty ass spell boss you around.”

That seemed to get through to him. Ketch hesitated at last, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other closed possessively around Dean’s shoulder.

“So how do you suggest we do this? Get away?” Ketch asked. He was still wearing much the same drunken expression as those Alphas. At least he seemed amenable to the possibility of escape. Most likely, Dean figured, he just didn’t want to share.

“I’m gonna roll over the hood and unlock the door. It feels to me like the moment I move they’re gonna jump on me. So be ready. I’m putting my foot down the moment the engine’s going.”

“Mmm…” Ketch’s eyes dragged downward, and for a moment Dean felt his hope sink. Ketch’s cock was inches away from his nose and the scent was unbearable. Worse, Dean’s body was responding eagerly now, and he knew that everything could go to hell in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t care; he’d be like that Omega in the street, taking it and taking it and drowning in the exceptional pleasure of sex.

This was it, make or break. He was depending on Ketch, of all people, to give him a chance. Just a chance—that was all he wanted.

“Go.”

In a second, Ketch was springing away from him, bowling shoulder first into the nearest Alpha behind him. Dean didn’t stay to watch the chaos. He jumped up, apologizing to Baby in his head as he clambered over her hood. She was strong, she could take it. He slid onto the other side right into a big female Alpha, but he was ready for any attack, and he didn’t think twice but to jam his elbow right into her face. She went down, and Dean had to shoulder his way through another one in order to get the car door open.

Ketch was still fighting off Alphas, so Dean threw himself inside, jamming the key into the ignition. As he started the car he span to slam the lock down on the door, hoping – maybe uncharitably - that he might lock Ketch out in the process.

But the door was already open, and Ketch was leering “nice try” as he threw himself onto the front bench. Dean put his foot down, and Alphas tumbled out of the way as the Impala screeched out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding being run down.

The Chevrolet powered out onto the road, fishtailing as it went, and Dean found himself breathing deeper as they roared, illegally fast, through the dark night.

The panic began to ebb, but the arousal—the arousal was impossible to escape. His arousal, at least to Dean, seemed as though it had nothing to do with the supposed spell. Being around all those horny alphas had set his heat off with a vengeance, an aching in his belly that he couldn’t escape, but it felt more natural now, like something Dean could grip for himself.

Though when he spared a glance for his passenger, righting himself in the seat beside him, Dean felt a rush of need. He gripped the wheel tighter.

“Could you put that thing away?” he asked, helplessly, trying his best not to so much as look in Ketch’s direction again. He just couldn’t look at a dick right now, and the scent in the car was unbearable. He was leaking with need, even with the bar disappearing in the rearview, and now he was suffocating in the scent of the Alpha trapped in the car with him.

“I don’t think so,” Ketch answered, thoughtfully. “You said this spell—that this spell would wear off. But I’m not so sure. I want you, you want me…”

Ketch’s hand fell on Dean’s thigh. He was crawling closer across the front seat, pressing into Dean’s space. Dean tipped his head back, spreading his legs wider, instinct trying to take over…

Fuck.

He stamped on the brake, and Ketch rolled into the front console, crashing one knee, shoulder and head into the footwell. Dean chuckled to himself as he touched the accelerator again, but it was a minor victory, and the need was creeping back in, the heat unbearable, now all over his body.

"You fucked my mother," he accused, sharply.

"She's younger than you are. And I'm an equal opportunities kind of guy."

Dean scowled. He needed to get Ketch out the car. Only one possibility, then. He had to pull over. It wasn’t like he could rightly kick Ketch out while the Impala was moving, even if he felt like Ketch would deserve it.

Taking his foot off the accelerator, Dean took the first turn off the road, pulling just off the main route into a farm’s access road. With the car still running, his foot on the brake, he turned toward the flustered Ketch, and the command for him to get out of the car died on his lips. His resistance crumbled.

Ketch was on him in a second. The car lurched forward as Dean’s foot came off the brake, but it was all Dean could do to shove the Impala into park before Ketch’s rough hands grabbed at his knees, pulling Dean awkwardly up onto the bench underneath him only to pretzel him in against the driver’s side window.

“You want me,” Ketch growled. This time Dean didn’t have any complaints. He wrapped his legs around Ketch’s back as he was rocked backward, the Alpha grinding between his thighs. “I know you want me to fuck you.”

Dean panted. He'd tried to resist, but the pull was undeniable. “Yes,” he agreed. Yes he did, yes he wanted it, at least right now. Spell or not, he’d work it out later. He couldn’t stand the unsatisfied need any longer; he needed something inside him, scratching that unreachable itch.

And Ketch’s cock was just so thick and long, so pretty…

“Get me out of these fucking clothes,” he spat, furiously. He was suffocating under all the many layers he was wearing; he needed out, and he needed out now.

Fortunately, Ketch also seemed to think it was a good idea. He pulled back, pawing at Dean’s clothes, snapping one of the buttons on his shirt in his eagerness to get Dean naked.

“Not the shirt first—fuck. For God’s sake…”

Dean gave up. Ketch was busy with his shirt buttons, so Dean did his best to wiggle out of his jeans himself, shoving them down desperately, squirming underneath Ketch in his effort to get free.

But freedom wasn’t really on the cards. The second his slick was exposed to the open air, Ketch stopped fussing about Dean’s clothes entirely. He grabbed hold of Dean’s hips, twisting roughly so that Dean had no call but to struggle awkwardly onto his knees. Dean groaned, curled with his head tucked in against the door, his spiked collar almost scraping the upholstery.

It was immediate, and immediately satisfying. Ketch slammed into him with a single, brutal stroke.

It was eyewatering, if only because Dean refused to cry out. Penetration was always the very heights of submission; not something he was eager to admit to liking. Restraining himself kept some hint of the power in his own hands, biting down on the noises of eager, yelping desire some Omega slipped into in the throes of passion. He was in control of himself while the Alpha behind him slipped deeper, making animalistic throaty groans as he surrendered to his nature.

Ketch fucked passionately, wickedly, a storm of pounding thrusts that barely left Dean room to breathe beneath them. The thunder continued, a drumbeat of pounding, aching snaps of hips against hips, the slap of his skin against Dean’s as his slick made them both ever wetter, slippery and hot. With it, the smell of sex permeated the car, and Ketch’s grunts subsided into rattling groans as his thrusts became slower and more deliberate.

As the thrusts became purposeful, Dean pushed back, gaining himself just a little room between his head and the door, some space to escape from the building heat trapped between his body and the seat, and the sight of his own cock leaking strings of sterile precome with every punishing thrust. Ketch answered his movement with one particularly rough jerk, before curling in across his back so that the suffocating temperature only rose several more degrees at once. Hot kisses danced across his shoulder, politely avoiding the dangerous collar at Dean's throat.

For just a little longer, Ketch spaced out his thrusts, until Dean had every opportunity to surrender entirely to his own pleasure. His breath was coming louder, almost wheezing through each exhale, and before he knew it Dean was whimpering between petulant moans, his hips rocking back to meet Ketch's. The Alpha pulled him up abruptly, arm wrapped around his chest, and plastered Dean against the window as he picked up a more urgent rhythm. By now Dean didn’t care: the sounds he made were desperately needy, yes, but by now Ketch wouldn’t remember them. He was lost in the rut, steamrolling toward orgasm.

Ketch came explosively, so brutally that Dean couldn’t help but cry out as he was filled, the pressure expanding inside him as Ketch knotted inside him. An enormous cock became an enormous knot, and Dean slapped at the window in a desperate effort to find purchase, his body clenching around the knot, his own orgasm instant. His come splashed in a wild arc across the Impala’s seat, right up against the window, but Dean was too lost to worry about that right now, sobbing through his orgasm and then slithering down into his own mess as Ketch slumped heavily across his back, practically out cold.

It felt like the longest knotting of his life. By the time Ketch was conscious again, pulling out of him, Dean felt nothing but bitter shame. All he wanted was to get back to the motel and take a long, hot shower.

They seemed to have broken the spell—but at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter is Dean/Cas again, and Jealous!Alpha!Cas at that. Dean isn't going to be very impressed with him, fair warning!


End file.
